


Shield Brethren

by Tchailenova



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Good Loki, Mage Loki, Pranks, Sif loses something precious to her, Trickster Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tchailenova/pseuds/Tchailenova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>setting - Marvel Cinematic ‘Verse; pre-Thor by some years/decades<br/>cast - Sif and Loki<br/>tiny mention of Sif/Thor interests</p>
<p>In which Loki plays a prank, Sif gets a precious thing stolen, and Loki is subtle about his talent for magic.</p>
<p>I'll add to this as time goes on, but there is no overarching plot just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shield Brethren

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the Prompt:  
> Mischief Managed (randomized). I’d love to see a more light-hearted ‘Trickster’ Loki in action. Can be in base Thor universe, AU or X-over. I don’t particularly care which. ^_~*
> 
> I do not own anything contained herein, and I have gained nothing except a more well-rounded self by writing and posting this work here.

Lady Sif was strolling along the garden paths, trying very hard not to fidget, but she could not help her feelings of apprehension. It was always a little like this after returning home from a skirmish. Sure, these were times of peace, but there were always small groups that wanted a louder voice and weren’t afraid to cause trouble to get attention. More often than not, it resulted in one of Thor’s Shield Brethren and a small contingent of soldiers flying in by the Bifrost and shutting down the conflict hard and fast.

The only downside to these skirmishes was that they always managed to inflict some kind of damage in varying severity to her double bladed staff or shield, and there wasn’t nearly enough glory in the battle to justify it. It was a dirty ugly business, fighting, and while Sif thrived on it and loved it as much as any of her friends, she hated to see her weapons get damaged. Use always brings about wear and tear, but today had been particularly rough on her blades; she was very keenly aware of the state of her equipment and how she looked. The Lady Sif wasn’t only a fighter, and she embraced the duality of being a beautiful woman and fearsome warrior at the same time. Smiling thinly to herself, she allowed that Fandral was far more fashion-forward and conscientious than herself, but Sif would not be caught dead in anything less than perfect condition if she could help it.

That, she reminded herself firmly, is why my staff and shield are at the weaponsmith’s at this very moment.

Sif noticed that she’d started to pace back and forth, and mindfully changed her course to take her the long way around the reflecting pond and multi-faceted fountain in the lower terraces of the gardens. The times spent without her equipment so soon after a skirmish while they were being repaired were always tense, and today was no exception.

However, as she turned a corner, a brightly colored cloud of smoke billowed from the market, in the general viscinity of the weaponsmith, and she felt her nerves turn to ice. It was likely just celebratory, in anticipation of the banquet tonight to honor their successful campaign. Sif waited for the next explosions of color to come, and she started to get light-headed. The next puff of glittery blue and then green billowed in her gaze as stars began to appear behind her eyes, and Sif realized with a start that she’d been holding her breath. Pink and then purple and flashes of gold dust followed along with cheers of wonder and amazement, and she could just barely make out chants of glory and victorious return.

A smile stole onto her lips as she realized how foolish she was being, and decided that a change in venue and some distraction might do her some good. Several minutes later saw Lady Sif being heralded for stories of the battle, and she could not speak enough for their liking. By tonight, all these stories would be well known and passed around, and she made sure to save a few of the gems for the dinner table she shared with Thor and her Shield Brethren. They fought together, dined together, laughed together, and she wanted nothing more than to live with them forever.

Her pleasant mood persisted until the light touch of a guard on her shoulder drew her out of a story that she was retelling simply for the fun of reliving the moments. His grim expression scattered her own smile and when he silently beckoned for her to follow him, Sif did so with a scant sliver of apprehension sliding into her belly.

She followed him to a quiet alley and bade him speak his purpose.

“Mi’Lady Sif, the weaponsmith sent me with his regret and assurances-”

“What has happened?” The uncomfortable feeling that she already knew what he was going to say slipping nastily along her skin.

“Your staff and shield, Mi’Lady. They have gone missing.”

Sif did not stay in the alley to heard anything further, choosing instead to streak blindly down the streets into which merrymakers had spilled. They either didn’t see her mood or didn’t comment on it, only sending praises after her - ones she couldn’t quite make out past the panicked rush in her ears. She had fought long and hard for the right and recognition to carry those items in service to her King beside Thor and the three warriors she’d come to count as blood brothers - even Loki could hold his own in battle (though his methods were a shade too unorthodox even for her) - and losing them to theft felt too keenly like denial.

She burst into the weaponsmith’s shop, out of breath, and her veins felt alive with defensive fury. Sif’s nearly gold eyes blazed as she pinned the shop-keeper with a glare befitting one of the King’s warriors.

Gathering her words and her wits as best she could, she spat out the word like an ugly demand, “When?”

“We saw them last just before the celebrations really began to pick up in the streets.” He gestured to a weapon stand, “We likely would have noticed earlier except someone thought to replace them instead of just leaving the stand empty.”

Her feet took her closer without her bidding, and she bit out a bitter laugh, the replica was done as though by a child’s hand, and her jaw clenched as she cast about for possible thieves.

“Aren’t there wards to prevent such accidents from happening?” Sif fought to keep her words even and non-accusatory. It wasn’t exactly this man’s fault that her weapons had been stolen, it was only his fault that he hadn’t seen who had done it.

“Yes, but none of them have been triggered. Either by incredibly light touch or magic, they were not set off. We are sorry Mi’Lady and will try to reclaim your weapons as soon as we can.”

Feeling that she was close to losing her temper and face, Sif turned on her heel and strode from the shop, turning back and replying as crisply as she could to keep from losing all pretense of calm, “See that you do.”

 

* * *

 

Loki smoothed his hand over the cool metals and smiled gently. She would not be pleased, but it would be worth it. He had retreated to his chambers, where his wards would shield him, and he could work in peace unhindered. Someone would notice eventually, and then he would only have a little more time before Lady Sif began to send out search parties.

It was only a weapon, not something that could simply grow legs and wander off and then be found on its own, but her fury was unmatched and spectacular to watch from a distance. Nobody else could make rage look like a fashion trend, and Sif’s fury usually served her incredibly well on the battlefield. While he enjoyed prodding her into irritation, he generally tried not to be too close at hand for the fireworks.

He smirked, remembering the simplicity with which he had managed to steal the staff and shield right from under their noses. A few fireworks and some screams to catch and hold their attention for half a minute, delicate maneuvering of the staff and a quick wave of his hand to briefly nullify the ward around the shield, some slight of hand to conceal the stolen items inside the billows of his cape, and that was that.

The thrill had been a rush of adrenaline not often found outside of battle, and Loki had basked in it.

Now, though, his time was likely nearly up, and there were still a few steps in the process left if he wanted it to be as successful as it needed to be to be worth it.

Leaving the staff and shield in a warded spell circle, surrounded by runes and the soft glowing hum of his magic, Loki left his chambers - intending to wander into her path by accident. He could not simply allow the fruits of his labors to go unappreciated, and he fully intended to throw her off his trail. If he wanted to remain in her good graces for the next few months he would have to play this very carefully.

He smiled disarmingly and wandered vaguely toward the gardens. It was as good a place as any to pass the time, especially as twilight approached and the sky turned purple and red - framing the golden palace and the gardens, creating one of the most beautiful sights Loki had ever seen. The talented sorcerer waited amongst nature, knowing that she would eventually find him.

Likely Sif already considered him a likely -

“Please, tell me you stole my weapons.” Sif’s voice carried across to him in a wholly unexpected blend of pleading, exasperation, and angry demand. He had only expected her fury and accusation, not anything else.

He turned, not bothering to hide his surprise, then registered what exactly she said, and frowned, “I would not steal your precious weapons. When were they stolen?” He carefully added curiosity - he knew very well when but he wanted to know when those shopkeepers noticed.

Sif stared at him stiffly, measuring him, and then visibly deflated, “Some hours ago, they were taken from the weaponsmithy.”

He noticed her body language and wondered at it. How desperate she must have been, hoping that it was someone she knew - that she could easily track down and retrieve her things from. He smiled, not entirely insincerely, though for reasons she would not realize, “I could scry-”

“No, thank you.” Her eyes then came up to meet his, and she looked away, seeming to be chastened by his surprise at being interrupted, “Sorry, I already have some seers doing that. No need for you to do so as well.”

“I see,” he snapped his jaw shut, appreciating the sharp click his teeth made as they met. Eventually the demand escaped, “Then why else come to me?”

Sif clenched her jaw and averted her eyes, ashamed to accuse a long-time friend (they had their misunderstandings, but they were still friendly) of stealing something so valuable from her. Her voice was quiet but steadied by her conviction. She had valid reasons to reach her conclusions, even if they made her feel gritty for thinking them, “You are always playing pranks on us, I thought that perhaps this was just another one. I thought that to be a pleasant alternative to having my weapons stolen.”

Loki hummed noncommittally and breathed deeply, “I understand, Lady Sif,” he executed a brief bow, “However, I did not steal your weapons. I shall, however, search for them and hope they return to you soon.”

Nodding, Sif retreated and left Loki behind as she sought out even more people to help her search.

He smiled then, and returned to his chambers the fast way, thinking that perhaps he should have waited a longer time rather than snatching her weapons right after a skirmish. Surely her adrenaline was still in her system. What he could not understand, however, was the way Sif had approached him. That was unusual, not unwelcome, but wholly unexpected. Perhaps it would not have mattered and she could not actually be separated from her blades and shield, just as Thor could not truly be parted from his hammer. She had spent so long and worked tirelessly for the privilege of serving the Allfather, it was truly a part of her instincts now.

Loki shook his head, all the better for his brother, then. He would need someone who understood in that way, and Loki silently approved. They were good instincts to have. He still didn’t quite comprehend what had changed to keep her fury tame and changed her to be desperate, Loki didn’t like it. It almost made his efforts pointless, but he remembered the spell that was steadily sinking into the wood and metals in his chambers, and he smiled with the memory.

He would be tired for a few days, and his magical conduits would feel a bit raw until he recovered, but the spell he was weaving would be worth it. Loki hurried his pace so that he could return and move to the next step in the process.

It wouldn’t move on without him, and the longer he waited in this step the quicker it would take hold, but he wanted to be able to walk to dinner without dragging himself, and the more time he left himself to recover the better.

He slid open the bookshelf and stepped into the heavily warded room where he had left the spell idling, resealed the room and sunk down into a floor cushion to continue where he had left off.

The staff and shield were glowing a faint green, shimmering with gold as the candle-lights flickered, and as he murmured the weapons dimmed and the runes blazed alight. His face pinched in severe discomfort, but Loki was nothing if not determined. He would see this finished, besides, the raw pain of spellcasting was not unfamiliar to Loki and he had long since developed a high pain tolerance. What brother of Thor could survive this long without one?

 

* * *

 

Some time later saw a guard delivering a strangely warm double-bladed staff and shield to Lady Sif, to her great relief, and she very reverently accepted them.

“Where did you find them?” Her voice was quiet, carefully not asking the only question she cared about ‘Who took them?’

The guard frowned, “In an abandoned hut in town. The seers sent us there, but could not See anyone else around it.”

Her reply was bitter, “Thank you,” as though she had not received everything she had hoped for.

He turned sharply and escaped down a corridor, while Sif thoughtfully returned to her chambers. There was still some time yet before the banquet, and she didn’t think that wearing her weapons to dinner was good manners - even if it was in her honor.

Sif gently laid down the bladed staff and her shield with a soft smile, running her hand over the warm surface, as though greeting a friend she had missed for a long while. She stayed like that for a while until the drums in the distance reminded her of the banquet and Sif carefully pulled herself away from her chambers. Things were different in the palace than they were in the market, petty thieves were kept at bay by guards and the wards in place by Odin and the High Council of Sorcery itself.

 

* * *

 

Lady Sif’s radiant countenance was full of the old confidence, and betrayed none of her earlier unease. When she spotted Loki’s marked change from before, it bothered her.

“What-”

“It is nothing, Good Lady Sif. Do not concern yourself with me,” Loki brushed off her inquiry as one might a dust mote.

“I am not that blind. I spoke with you earlier this evening and you did not look this way,” she frowned, uncertain what other words she could risk. Loki was always very mindful of his appearances, she couldn’t risk him thinking she was trying to jest at his expense.

A single eyebrow rose in challenge, “I searched for your weapons-” he held a hand up and interrupted himself to level a knowing expression directly at her to keep her from saying anything, “I know the Seers are fully capable of scouring the city and some of the other realms. I wanted to help by casting a wider net, however it would seem that my preparations were unnecessary.”

Sif felt her mouth open and close a few times in several aborted attempts to reply. Her eyes widened in delayed recognition that whatever he’d done to search, he hadn’t bothered searching the city, and she got the distinct impression that he was only this tired because he’d tried so hard to return her prized weapons to her.

Knowing from many centuries of friendship (some more strained than others) that a physical expression of her gratitude would be unwelcome and strange, and that her words could not possibly adequately express it, Sif settled for catching his gaze and thanking him with the sincerity in her eyes.

His surprised expression morphed hesitantly into a smile and she knew that he understood. His hand gently squeezed her shoulder and he nodded before finding a quiet corner to sit in.

Very quickly, Sif was drawn back into the hubbub and excitement of the banquet, and she barely had a moment to herself where she realized that today had been the busiest non-stop adrenaline rush in many months and she smiled.

  
Today could have ended in any number of different ways, and Sif thanked the Norns that it had ended pleasantly.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to give me prompts, go here for the guidelines: http://tchailenova.tumblr.com/post/70083557077


End file.
